


Vaguely Familiar, yet Distant

by warlockdetective



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Aliases, Angst, Gen, Post-Canon, Reunions, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 08:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20757500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warlockdetective/pseuds/warlockdetective
Summary: time is an illusionthat helps things make senseso we're always livingin the present tenseit seems unforgivingwhen a good thing endsbut you and I will always be back thenyou and I will always be back then





	Vaguely Familiar, yet Distant

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't really a genre I dabble in much when it comes to writing fics, but an old concept resurfaced itself recently, and _oof_...without giving too much away, it's Sad Hours™.  
Honest feedback is appreciated.

It was strange, looking through some of the entries in his commonplace book. Years ago, Quigley had been told it'd be one of the most important things he ever had, but in the present he seemed to leave it almost untouched. He wrote his final entry some time after he found himself on the shores of Briny Beach, and even though a portion of the book's pages were still blank, he left them empty. It was weird, honestly, how the book seemed to be both too bare yet too full.

He remembered writing entries in the book when he was younger, but he could barely remember what some of them were even about in the present. While _most_ of the entries were ones he didn't mind finding foggy, there were a handful of them that he couldn't help but wish to remember. Particularly, there was a set of entries he remembered writing during the time he was at the Mortmain Mountains about someone in particular, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite pin who it was. The entries he'd written described her hair as "long" and her eyes as "beautiful" and "determined". He was as descriptive as he was vague; he could paint an image of _someone_ sitting next to him on the ledge of a frozen waterfall, but he couldn't recall anything about who the person was to save his life.

He hated it. He hated how _little_ he remembered about her, and he hated the creeping fear that she very likely didn't really remember him, either.

He found himself setting the book down before he could even consider pressing on. Some days were far from good days for trying to piece together what the entries of the past meant, and this was certainly one of those far from good days. He'd stepped out the door before he could consider leaving a note for his siblings, a small pang of guilt hitting him once he had turned the corner. He knew he didn't need to leave notes for them all the time, but he knew sometimes they were bound to worry. However, the hour was so early that the sky was the faintest shade of violet; he didn't want to risk waking them up then.

Looking at the sky, it occurred to him that the only thing about her he remembered vividly was her name: Violet. He'd written it over and over it seemed, and there times where he reread the book that he found himself wondering if he'd done it on purpose. He wondered if a part of him knew they might never see each other again, and maybe if he wrote it he wouldn't forget her. _Couldn't_ forget her, even.

_Violet, Violet, Violet, Violet--_

He remembered calling out her name--twice something like this happened, he swore upon it--before he felt the harsh rush of water overtake him. He could remember being just out of reach to take someone's hand, but he couldn't recall _whose_ hand it was. They were calling to him too, he was sure, but their voice was silent, almost non-existent.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed there was someone else on the street until he had literally walked into them, earning a genuine shocked gasp from both people involved.

"I'm so sorry!" Quigley cried, reaching out to help whoever he'd run into back on their feet. "I wasn't watching where I was going, are--" His question died in the back of his throat when he stopped to look at the woman who had taken his hand. Her eyes had a startled sort of shock in them when he first saw her, yet he could've sworn there was a different sort of shock in them as he looked at her. There was something about them that looked almost familiar, almost comforting...

"Is everything alright?" the woman asked, jolting Quigley back to the present.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I.." he shook his head, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts before continuing, "I thought you were someone else for a moment."

"I was about to say the same," the woman said almost in a hush. She let his hand go quickly before asking, "Though what _is_ your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm Qui--Quin," he corrected himself before he held out his hand again. He and his siblings hadn't been mentioned by The Daily Punctilio for a long while, but the three of them felt it would be safe to stick to their aliases for a while longer, or at the very least until the paper was out of print.

He could've sworn he'd seen the woman's face fall for a brief moment, but by the time he'd considered it, she was bearing an almost confident front. "Vivienne," she replied, giving his hand a polite shake.

"Vivienne?" Quigley repeated before he could stop himself. Something about it didn't quite click, but he couldn't place why.

"It's a common family name," she responded quickly, almost like it was something she was used to being asked about, as she let his hand go.

He gave a quick nod in acknowledgement, deciding it best not to press further. "It's a lovely morning to get a few things done," he said, hoping to keep the air from going awkward.

"Very lovely indeed," she said almost in a whisper. For a moment, he could've sworn her voice wasn't the same as it was before.

"Pardon?" he asked in a breath, and he suddenly felt as if he was seeing stars. He'd said that before, hadn't he? People said it to each other despite that, right?

"It's..." The woman turned her gaze away from him for a moment, a soft sigh leaving her before she responded, "It's a lovely day. I should really be going."

She had almost walked right by him when Quigley spoke suddenly, "Vivienne, right?" He felt the need to hold on to the moment, yet he couldn't find the words he wanted to say. Instead, he gave a quick smile as he said, "I hope your day's a good one."

"Yours too," she gave a smile of her own in return, yet there was something about her eyes that seemed almost sad. And with that, she turned and went.

He'd begun to go on his way, but there was something about her that he just couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. Something about her eyes, something about what she said...how did it seem both familiar and distant? He could've _sworn_ he'd said something like that back when he was at the Mortmain Mountains--

_Wait._

"Wait, Vi--" Quigley turned as fast as he could, yet she had long since turned the corner by the time everything clicked. Or had she crossed the street? Maybe she a little ways further down the path. He felt tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to run, but he couldn't get himself to move.

He'd found her only to lose her again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [When the rain will fall...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299143) by [Juno999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juno999/pseuds/Juno999)


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